


Things to Come

by WashedAwayCloud (HowlingSentinel)



Series: Ingrediens ergo lapides, ut in posterum. [2]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Birthday Present, Drabble, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:55:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3213257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowlingSentinel/pseuds/WashedAwayCloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a quick glimpse into the not so distant future for Ariadne and Callum. Written for a dedicated reader as a birthday gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things to Come

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nelzipiez](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelzipiez/gifts).



Ariadne was sitting at the little coffee shop they’d agreed to meet at, nervously twisting a napkin in her lap. There were too many misunderstandings and missteps in their relationship right now for this to be anything other than nerve wracking.  But, the little Parisian brunette is brilliantly happy too. Had Ian not wanted to see her, had he given up completely on her, on a possible _them_ , this meeting wouldn’t be happening at all. So there was hope.

Ariandne could work with hope. A hand lifts up to pluck the locket from her throat, opening it to look at the time. Eames is never _truly_ late, at least, he usually isn’t. He’d always been precisely on time in the past - or very near to it.

The ten-minute late mark has already passed. Is this a test? Did he really need to test her to see if she was serious? Ariadne takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, the locket clicking shut and dropping against her throat once again. If he needed proof, she’d give him proof.

Callum feels like a caged tiger. This hadn’t actually been his idea. He’d spoken to Yusuf about how to deal with a requested meeting. He was still too raw from the fighting, from his decision to just _leave_ her there, in that sublet. It was the first time in twenty years that doing something left him raw and twitchy.

Yusuf had suggested this. Make her wait fifteen minutes, just fifteen, not a moment longer. If she stays, then there was hope. If she got up and left, tears or anger on her face, it was done and there was no saving it.

He checks his watch, looks at Ariadne and prowls around the little shop he’s hiding in again. Three minutes. Three agonizing minutes until it was ‘safe’ to go over there. Callum hadn’t counted on her wearing the yellow dress. The same one she’d worn that first night of their arrangement. When he’d learned how timid she could be, how easily aroused and how _absolutely breathtaking_ her arousal could be. This thing between them, it wasn’t all sex, but her sexuality pulled at him in ways that left him unable to ignore her.

She called to him, pulled at him. That smile she had, the one that was _his_. Her happy sighs, delighted noises. All of them for him, all disarming, all enthralling. A hand runs through his hair, mussing it up before he smooths it down. Storm grey eyes check his watch again, thank god, his head jerks toward the shop window. His chest is tight with worry, but the bands release gradually.

There she was, his little woman, looking distraught but still sitting at the table. Eames tears out of the little shop without a moment to spare. It was time to talk; it was time to figure things out. It was time to see the architect, his architect.


End file.
